All In A Day's Work
by Rizzle
Summary: Harry is kidnapped and has to contend with a drunk and nostalgic Lucius Malfoy while he awaits rescue. Short and silly. Slash implied.


All In A Day's Work

All In A Day's Work

_In a dingy, dank, dungeon somewhere..._

Harry cursed, spat, growled, rattled his chains and promised to personally deliver each and every wizard complicit in his kidnapping, directly to Hell.

But not before he wreaked a great and terrible vengeance, of course. After all, one did not hero-nap the saviour of the wizarding world without some sort of comeuppance.

He had already outlined his tailor-made, individual revenge plan for each of his six, hapless captors. Given that it was Day Eight of the Daring and Praiseworthy Kidnapping of Harry James Potter, the aforementioned captors had already heard the same spiel before and could only manage tired sighs, shrugs, and the odd, dismissive hand gesture.

Their captive was not impressed. No, not impressed at all.

Now that Voldermort was dead and gone, it was only a band of lame and stupid middle-aged Death Eater that continued their pointless campaign to terrorize the public. The public in question had been celebrating for three months straight and were in no shape to be terrified. After the Days of Joy, Drink and Feasting, came the Days of Closed Drapes, Hushed Voices and Hangover Remedies.

St Mungos had also recently announced six hundred confirmed pregnancies in the first two , post- War months alone. For those who were eager to get on with life, things looked to be right on track. People were just not scared anymore.

Fact was that it was an annoying time to be an out of work, on the run, Death Eater.

Lucius Malfoy sat in a chair (tilted back on two legs), sipped on his last, prized, bottle of champagne and took great pleasure in poking at Harry with a long, sharp, stick he had found in the yard outside. He was quite drunk.

"Oh shuddup Potter. You're only a small boy, but Merlin's gonads you're _loud_."

Harry spat. He was fast running out of spittle. That tended to happen after a week of greeting every villain with a gob of the stuff. Also, he was dehydrated.

"Go to hell Lucius!"

Lucius went all crazy-eyed again. "I'm already there, you horrid boy! My home is in ruins thanks to Ministry raids. My wife has gone insane from stress and humiliation! My house elves are actually demanding hazard pay! I haven't had a decent bath in three months and to top it off, my only son tells me he's GAY!'" Lucius leaned forward and waggled a pale finger at Harry. "Trust me Potter, I'm _in_ hell."

Harry blinked at the sheer vehemence of it all. "So your only son's turned out to be a poofter. What's that got to do with me?"

"What's that got to do with me?" Lucius mimicked, in a horrible sing-song, girly voice which he had previously accused Harry of having.

"Nothing except that _you're_ the one who turned him into a raging queen in the first place." Lucius jabbed Harry hard in the ribs with his stick, to punctuate this accusation.

"You're one to talk!" Harry scoffed. "Everyone knows about iyour/i little indiscretions when Draco was still at school!"

"There's a difference, Potter. A big difference. I'm a ridiculously good looking, sexually desirable individual who has a mind to experiment when the opportunity seizes me. I must admit that my first experience was with a wizard who was much older than I was. It was a warm night, one summer..."

"Oh my God," Harry said quickly. "I've changed my mind. Kill me now."

Lucius continued to reminisce, with a fond, bloodshot sort of look.

This was worse than torture. Harry wondered if there was enough slack in his chains to loop around his neck. He tried, to no avail.

"Good times, those," Lucius nodded, apparently coming to some sort of conclusion. For a moment Harry thought that the drinking and ranting had finally caught up with the older man and he would either vomit or pass out.

Neither happened, unfortunately.

"But in the end, I still got married in order to continue the ancient and honourable like of Malfoy. I have to admit that going to bed with Narcissa is like dumping a cauldron full of shaved ice into your underpants." He made a distasteful expression at this point, as if the memories still greatly pained him. "But I did my duty and Draco is the result of that duty. Dammit, Potter, he's my heir! You be sure to remind him of that the next time you two play hide the Banger under the sheets!"

Harry had had enough. "You're utterly mad! I have no idea what you plan to do with me, but there's no way you're getting away with it. My people are on your trail even as we speak."

Lucius was in his own world; a world made up of a obedient, heterosexual Draco, hot baths and ice-free trousers, no doubt. He poked at Harry again. "It's absolutely paramount that Draco is _not_ gay." The unsteady chair wobbled precariously.

Harry raised his chin. "You can't hold me accountable for the choices he makes in life."

"The hell I can't!" Lucius roared. "With your black hair and your batting eyelashes and green eyes and your stupid little swagger. All tortured and stoic with your take me home and feed me look! What did you think was going to happen? My boy is at an impressionable age. These things can go either way, you know!"

"LOOK, YOU CRAZY OLD BASTARD! FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE SEXUAL ORIENTATION OF YOUR STUPID SON!"

"Oh shut up, you whore," said Lucius, rather icily, and sat back. Only the chair was already unbalanced and so there was nothing but air to prevent the fall. The cursed poking stick was no help. Lucius toppled over backwards, hit his head on the floor and was out like a light.

"Now, now, father, is that any way to talk to your future son-in-law?" Draco materialised rather dramatically out of the shadows and stared down at his snoring sire. "Drunk and defeated doesn't become him, does it? And what was all that talk about my mum and ice in his pantaloons? I think I'm scarred for life."

"You!" Harry exclaimed, not bothering to call forth any spittle. There simply was none left. "Come to finish the job, then?"

Draco's eyes glittered. "Yes, I've come to kill you Potter. To do away with you in whatever nasty, messy, evil manner I choose. There'll be torture involved, hot candle wax, pincers, pokers, ball-bearings, Chinese water torture, a Rack if I can manage to get mine back from the Goyle residence. There'll probably be some ravishing, too. Terribly underrated, ravishing. You know, Potter, the whole community is abuzz about your disappearance. It only makes sense that something decidedly sticky should happen to you."

"Fuck you, Malfoy," said Harry, looking tired now. "Now hurry up and get these shackles off me before your crazy father wakes up and tells me about his other conquests."

Draco smiled. "No to the second request, my love, only because it will make the first request all the more interesting."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

"Kidnapping is no laughing matter." Draco looked contemplative now. "Unless everyone has a funny hat on. Funny hats make all the difference, you know."

"MALFOY!"

Draco grinned and obliged by spelling away Harry's bonds. He tossed a brief look over his shoulder at his unconscious father. "Pfft. You think you killing Voldemort would have given these old farts the right idea. The Dark Lord was always going on and on about lack of initiative among his cronies. He'd be slapping his scaly thighs now, if he could see them."

Once freed, Harry began rubbing life back into his wrists. "I cannot believe it took you eight days to find me," he said, sullenly.

"Oh, pooh you! It wasn't easy!" Draco scowled. "I had to trade every favour I had with every low-life I know. Being devastatingly sexy and charming helped, of course. Aunt Bellatrix always said it's easier to catch ants with honey than vinegar."

Harry gave him a look. "Your Aunt Bellatrix said that?"

"Well, substitute the honey for fresh, goat entrails and the ants for a Manticore, and you get the general idea," beamed Draco.

"What's with the ball bearings? Do you lot really use that for torture?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

Draco shrugged. "No idea. Just tossed that in on a whim in case father was listening. Industrial equipment always adds a macabre edge to torture threats, don't you think?

"Nyeah," said Harry. He had heard worse in his line of work.

Just then, Ron burst into the room, looking irritated and relieved. "You two are taking too bloody long!" He looked at Harry, his expression softening. "You right there, Harry? We've been worried."

"I'm good."

The look Ron gave Draco, in marked contrast was the non-verbal version of Now-_You_-On-The -0ther-Hand-Can-Go-Fuck-Off-And-Die. "We're leaving now!" Ron announced, and then slammed the door shut again.

"He hasn't been the same since he lost his favourite key ring on our last mission," Harry explained.

Draco smiled, took hold of Harry's hand and led him to the door. "Yes, I thought that might be it."


End file.
